The tale time left unfinished
by 98RockAngel
Summary: In a way she was right, Simon didn't predict the future and could be argued as delusional. Pretty lucky with his guessing but still, delusional. He hadn't gotten it all wrong though and a part of him wondered if he could possibly get it all right.
He was wrong. He said they were going to have three children. That there were going to be happy yet, here they were trapped in a sanitary room with uber clean walls and the scent of disinfectant lingering in the air. He took the lumpy brown chair with the stiff, unapologetic back by her side while she lay on the starched, scratchy white sheets.

In a way she was right, Simon didn't predict the future and could be argued as delusional. Pretty lucky with his guessing but still, delusional. He hadn't gotten it all wrong though and a part of him wondered if he could get it all right.

They were married and he was writing serious literature. Yes he started up initially writing about a senator because he writes about his wife. His words- they belong to her. But then the book took on a more procedural tone and it evolved into the whole process of being a senator and what that entailed. He journaled the procedures and steps that she was required to take and along the way this book was born. And yes, he does consider that as serious literature. After all, despite it being based on his wife and her experience, it was less about the story, more about the facts. And people think she didn't rub off on him.

Simon had most of it right except where it mattered because with each breath that she struggled to take, each involuntary gasp she lets out fighting to fill her lungs with air, his heart breaks a little. He's also unhappy. Mad that she's stuck here, upset that she's sick and afraid of what will happen next, a myriad of emotions engulf him but none close to resembling joy.

And they have no children. He does not have a little boy who when looking at his baby face was like looking in a mirror, nor does he have girls with her hair and cheekbones, he knew they'd possess. He'd have to get her to lend him her gun for when the boys who thought they were worthy arrived at the door. They'd make stunning children. Extraordinary just like their mother.

They'll never get to have that now. Not with her lying here; body barely able to keep itself alive much less another human. Another human with needs so great that he's not even sure he'll manage to care for them a second time round without her.

She'd make a good mother. She'll tend to their every need with a heart so full of love. She'll probably be the one reigning in the fun when he goes overboard but they'll love her nonetheless. Their mother who battles monsters and slays dragons without so much as batting an eye. Their mother who loves so strongly and passionately, wise and all knowing. She'll let them have fun too. Probably egging them in tormenting him. Oh they'd gang up on him for sure. Maybe he'll get a dog. Name him Sherlock and he'll take his side. Who was he kidding, the dog would probably side with the matriarch of the family. People and animals alike tend to love her.

He watches as she stirred awake. Still stretches out like a cat, cracking her bones. He'll never understand why she does it now but he supposes, familiarity in her routines, even a little bit is soothing.

"Castle", she strains, voice cracking with misuse.

"I don't want to die" four words uttered that robbed him of his breath.

Lying by him is the great unbreakable Kate Beckett. The same woman who runs head first towards a challenge, her life and safety be damned. Here lay the same Kate Beckett whose face now not only is void of the furrow of her eyebrows and jaw set in determination but is ashen and weary.

She has on a look that he's never seen so clearly before- fear. He's seen her afraid but he's never seen her this openly terrified. She always keeps her vulnerability hidden and concealed beneath her ironclad poker face. She should really think about playing professionally because, her poker face masked with her luck, she'd be winning millions and retired pretty soon with a cozy payout to fall back on.

But now maybe her luck has run out. After all how many times did she almost die only to live to talk about it? Surviving so many near deaths, you'd eventually run out of lives right? Even a cat has nine, how many was she on already?

In front of Richard Castle sat a Kate Beckett openly afraid of dying and he is unsure of how to reassure her because he does not know if she'll make it. He's deathly afraid that she won't and he'll crumble. He can't imagine functioning much less living in a world where he does not receive that patented Kate Beckett eye roll. She's looks at him like she knows he has a silver lining. So full of hope, like a child awaiting a reward. But how was he supposed to tell her that it'll be okay when it's not going to be.

She survives this, she lives in a world of pain and constant medical care. She dies and he'll die right along with her. It's selfish but he wants her to live. No he needs her to live and when he looks at the women in front of him, he can't help but see how much younger she is compared to him. She looks so engulfed by the sheets that can't possibly be comfortable and her already tiny figure is dwarfed by the bed frame. He gets in with her and holds her because what do you say to a women who's faced death so many times without fear but is now afraid? What do you say to the women you love who wants to live, but you know is most likely going to die.

Nothing. You can't say anything. So he holds her and hopes that it's enough.


End file.
